Tin Hat clears his throat, tapping his cane against the cobbles
*Ahem*, it has also come to my attention that despite the streets being busier than ever, Rats scurrying, Durdens falling, that in our much beloved community, family members are living much.... "fuller" lives.  

In general people are getting older, and that there are a significant amount of mafioso that are borderline decrepit.

Therefore,

Tin Hat pauses for effect as mild fanfare fills the streets once more, a little off-key but noble all the same
I would like to declare The Geriatric Ward is hereby re-opened.

Yes, after years behind locked doors, I have swept the dust from its halls, laid fresh linen on the tables, and stocked the shelves with fine cigars ...and softer chairs. This will be the place where those that need a safe space to rest your feet can kick on your slippers, light up a cigar and reminisce about "the good old days".

In The Geriatric Ward, it is always there is always someone else to blame;  so step inside, if your bones creak louder than your gun, if you remember OMERTA or if your just a grumpy old bastard like me. 
 

Tin Hat raises his glass with a sly smile
To the old guard, to the families who built these streets, and to the memories that outlive even the fiercest of wars. The doors are open.

The crowd begins to thin, footsteps fading into the night, as the wind whistles down the empty streets. A hush settles, uneasy and long.

Tin Hat lingers, cane tapping idly against the stones. For a moment he wonders if this new venture was folly. “Perhaps I had it wrong…” he mutters, then shakes his head. “No, no... don’t be ridiculous.” With a smirk he adds under his breath, “Maybe they just all forgot to switch their hearing aids on.”

From the corner of his eye, a flicker, a shadow shifts. Was it a familiar face? An old comrade drawn back by memory? Or someone with darker intentions, waiting to test the resolve of a man they think has slowed with age?

Tin Hat wastes no time. He retreats into the Ward, closing the heavy door with a soft THUD. Inside, he twists the dial of the radio... Mob FM, still spouting the same old dross. With a groan, he flicks it off. “Enough”

Crossing the room, he straightens the portrait of a long-forgotten boss, eyeing the brass plate beneath. He breathes gently upon it, wiping away the dust to let the names shine once more.

STAE. Brian Areo. Father John. Angel of Death. MrEvilman. Prem. Trash Panda. Uncle Nicky…

Tin Hat steps back, nodding slowly at the wall of ghosts. He could have put up so many more. 
Although a few spaces remained, empty but waiting.

He mutters, almost to himself: “I’ll keep those reserved… for the next greats”

The Ward was silent… Empty

Tin Hat sat alone, the glow of his cigar tip fading in rhythm with his breath. He took a slow pull, exhaled, then drew the smoke back through his nose… the scent was old, sharp, and painfully familiar.

He reached for his glass, scotch, one cube of ice, and let the silence settle around him. The portraits on the wall stared back, a gallery of ghosts carved into the grain of memory.

He leaned back, eyes soft but heavy. Somewhere along the way, the laughter had gone quiet. The old hands had drifted, the streets had changed, and maybe… maybe he had spent too long living among shadows and memories.

Tin Hat sighed.

He couldn’t help but wonder where everyone had gone.
Perhaps he’d spent too long talking to ghosts, chasing the echoes of names that once filled these halls. 

While he’d been polishing memories, the world outside had changed, quieter now, colder somehow. New faces, new rules… a world he didn’t quite recognise.

He took another pull on his cigar, the smoke curling like the past itself.
“Too much change,” he muttered under his breath. “And who ever liked change, anyway?”

He set down his glass, the ice clinking once against the rim. “Maybe retirement ain’t the worst fate,” he murmured. “Though we all know how that story ends…”

He stood, straightened his jacket, and looked once more at the empty spaces on the wall. Then, without ceremony, he turned off the light.

The Geriatric Ward was closed.